


Fleece

by bruisecore



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, College, Dorms, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Orchestra, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Recovery, Therapy, Underage Substance Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-26 03:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruisecore/pseuds/bruisecore
Summary: Jupiter just needs to keep his shit together. Finish the assignment, go to classes, avoid the guy who raped him, and keep Kei, his roommate and only friend, from finding out anything happened.He can't do it. He can't and he doesn't want to anymore.





	Fleece

**Author's Note:**

> hey folks bet you never thought you'd see me again.
> 
> but write what you wanna read and all, so here we are.
> 
> tw: implied rape, self harm

He leaned back against the kitchen wall. He wished it would turn into quicksand, swallow him up and suffocate him. His fingers sluggishly tapped the side of a chocolate milk bottle, his freezing wet hair plastered to his scalp making him shudder. He stared up , eyes glazed, at the ceiling fan, at the shitty lamp casting more shadow than light on the kitchen. He just saw blurs. He lowered his face to his knees and screamed.

 

His phone buzzed at his side, still on vibrate from when he was in class earlier. Before he was stupid enough to go to that fucker’s place and -  _ nononono  _ he can’t think about that anymore. Nothing happened. Nothing. A whine tears its way from his mouth, his hands going to curl over the back of his head, pulling his hair. He can’t breathe, curling up into a tighter ball and wheezing. His phone buzzes again.

 

One hand reaches for it, but it just slaps the tiled floor. He’s shaking so badly he feels like giving up, until his hand bumps into the bottle, then the phone.

 

He doesn’t lift his head. He shoves his hand into the space between his face and legs and swipes at the screen.

 

_ ‘Kei: whre tf r y’ _

_ ‘Kei: u le ft u keys @ hom agan dumfc’ _

 

Even like this he texts better than Kei.

 

‘ _ jup _ _ : Can you come get me please?’ _

 

His eyes glaze over again until the screen is just a beam of light. He closes them and rubs at his cheek until it hurts. A new text startles him back.

 

_ ‘Kei: where r y u’ _

_ ‘jup: Kitccchen in buildng a. Pleas?’ _

_ ‘Kei: omw eta 15 doon do anthn stpid’ _

 

He drops his phone and covers his neck with his arms. He just can’t stop shaking.


End file.
